


you can’t wake up (this is not a dream)

by ferryboatsandbowie



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Episode: s01e17 Turn Turn Turn, Precognition, Ward x Simmons Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:42:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferryboatsandbowie/pseuds/ferryboatsandbowie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She stands alone until she’s not anymore. </p><p>That’s how it always starts. </p><p> </p><p>Ward x Simmons Winter: Volume II. <b>Sense</b>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you can’t wake up (this is not a dream)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Halsey’s Gasoline.

i.

She stands alone until she’s not anymore.

That’s how it always starts.

Alone in the lab.

No, not alone. Grant is with her. Jemma knows his lips are moving, but she can’t make out a word past the deafening roar in her ears.

Her eyes don’t leave his gun…

She’s been here so many times before. This shouldn’t be a shock—so why can’t she _move_?

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, Grant’s already delivered the blow rendering her unconscious.

The dreams end once he pulls the trigger.

When she wakes in the Cage alone, it’s a small mercy.

ii.

By the time the door opens, she’s already up and nursing a headache. There’s little else to do when locked in confinement. She doesn’t go to him. It makes no difference that he’s alone.

Jemma waits, watching him in her periphery. He’s got the door locked in seconds and is on the bed in even less time than that. She puts as much distance between them as she can manage. Grant isn’t happy, but he’s hardly about to press the issue.

“We need to talk.”

“We really don’t,” she argues.

“Jemma.” He pours everything he has into her name. “Please.”

“ _No_. There’s nothing to discuss. You’re with _them._ ”

“That’s not true,” he says. “Nothing’s changed.”

A dispirited smile passes over her face and she laughs as though it’s been kicked out of her. He only stares as her resolve crumbles before him.

Jemma has only ever seen the barrel of his gun. She was meant to die. She’s seen it happen again and again.

She doesn’t know what to do.

By the time the shaking dissipates, there are tears in her eyes.

She lets out a shaky breath. “I’d like you to leave.”

He frowns. “When you’re ready—”

“Just _go_.”

iii.

It’s been over a week since the uprising. Twenty seven meals without the team. Three hundred twenty six hours without sunlight. Thirteen days since reality caught up with her.

She hasn’t spoken in thirteen days.

She hasn’t seen her husband in thirteen days.

With her eyes locked on the security camera, she pushes the thought away. Jemma idly wonders who could be on the other side; watching her, watching them. There’s no one… No one knows that she’s down here. No one even knows she’s alive.

But it’s _on_. Someone’s there.

“Let me out, Grant!”

It had to be him. There was no one else…

“What are you waiting for?” she rages, her voice low and rough from disuse. “Come over here and face me.”

There’s nothing.

“I hate you.” She pulls her knees against her chest, burying her face. “Why couldn’t you just kill me?”

Nothing but silence.

“Watching myself. Watching it happen… I was never meant to last this long. I’d made my peace with it. I was ready, but you’ve _—_ ”

The camera’s light has gone along with anyone who might be listening.

“Come on!” she cries. 

She loses time waiting for him. Shutting her eyes, she curls in on herself and tries to find some comfort in sleep.

Jemma doesn’t dream anymore. They’re not dreams once they happen. It’s something else, something malignant. A scar in her memory that that refuses to let go. She just wants to _rest_ , and she can’t.

iv.

He’s with her at the Hub. Trip is the only one she can trust now.

“You’re staring.”

“Hey, you asked me to come. I’m doing my job.”

“I didn’t ask you to come as an armed guard,” she scoffs, never leaving her work. “What I need is my friend.”

“Everything okay?”

Jemma looks up at him for a fraction of a second, her smile lasting just as long. “I’m fine.”

“Been having the dream again?” She stills over the lab equipment. That’s all the confirmation he needs. “And you still haven’t told him.”

“You know Grant. You know how he’s like,” she reasons. “He takes such care of us. I don’t want him to worry.”

“I do know how he’s like. But I also know you, Jemma.” His brow raises. “You wanna try the truth?”

She pushes herself up from the table and stares out the door. “Something’s going to happen.”

“With Ward?”

“It’s… I don’t know. This day is _wrong_ somehow.” Jemma shrugs, crossing her arms. “I feel sick.”

They stand in silence, watching the agents move about like schools of fish, until it’s gone quiet.

“Just a lot of guys in action mode today,” he says. “Level Eight, need to know.”

“Quiet.”

He turns to face her. “Simmons, nothing is going to happen _—_ ”

“Fitz.” She nods towards the door, her voice no more than a whisper. “It’s Fitz.”

Trip follows her gaze. “Stay behind me,” he says. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Everything is so still in that moment. He’s alone in the hall, covered in blood, brought inside with them like a virus out of quarantine. He went to work fast, getting Trip out of the way.

“Find Skye,” he says over and over. “You’ve got to find Skye!”

“I’ll be back for you, do you hear me?”

There was no time… He had to get to the others. He left her alone with him.

Her eyes don’t leave the door. She doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. Fitz watches her, just as silent. He follows Trip when the time is right. It’s not long after that Grant shows his face.

She stands alone until she’s not anymore.

That’s how it always starts.

Alone in the lab.

He shoots her early that night.


End file.
